


Human

by Melacka



Series: Of want and need [1]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Dembe meddles, F/M, Red plays piano, Season 1, pre-Lizzington, some flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melacka/pseuds/Melacka
Summary: It never really occurred to her to think of him as human. He was so extraordinary, so larger-than-life, so seemingly omnipotent and damn near indestructible, the idea that he was just a human like any other was almost laughable. She'd gone to him ready to be angry, ready for a fight, instead she was forced to confront the idea that maybe he wasn't so different from her after all.Set somewhere in mid-to-late Season 1. Pre-Lizzington banter and flirtation.





	Human

It never really occurred to her to think of him as human. He was so extraordinary, so larger-than-life, so seemingly omnipotent and damn near indestructible, the idea that he was just a human like any other was almost laughable. When she first knew him, she liked to remind herself periodically of just how dangerous he was. She couldn’t afford to let him charm her, she needed to stay sharp, be a little more aggressive than she was usually comfortable with. He was all easy wit, languid smiles and meaningful eye contact maintained for just a little bit too long to be comfortable. She recognised these as the weapons that they were and he would wield them all with as much deadly precision as he did a gun. She refused to become one of the many women who were apparently enslaved by his charm, so she would keep a mental list of his crimes, remind herself of his history, never let herself forget just how dangerous this man could be.

Gradually she began to slip. She was less vigilant the longer she was in his company. And before she knew it, she would give almost anything to _not_ know how dangerous he was. Her life was falling apart, and she was all too willing to blame him. She didn’t want to see the truth, so used to living a lie had she become. She found herself trusting him in a way that she couldn’t claim to trust Tom. She relied on him more than she relied on her colleagues. She sought refuge with him more than she could ever hope to do with her friends. She felt trapped. Confined by a prison of her own making. Desperate for the deceptive comfort that he could provide, she started frantically pushing away the thoughts about the danger that she was voluntarily placing herself in.

Over time she realised that she really didn’t know him at all. The small drops of information that he doled out entirely at his own convenience became a constant irritant for her. She realised that she didn’t know anything about him. Nothing _real_. Nothing that mattered. He would never let her know him, would never let her in. She hated the state of desperate dependency that he seemed to enjoy keeping her in. She really didn’t want him to know how much she relied on him now. Somewhere along the way, he had become necessary to her. Essential, even. She would revel in the strange intimacy that he allowed. Enjoying the fact that she was let in just that little bit closer, that she had some value in this whole scenario. Something more than just mindless puppet or designated mouthpiece. She understands that even though he lets her in close, she doesn’t have the same choice with him. Not really. He comes and goes as he pleases, dictating the terms of their relationship. He seems to know more about her than she does. He knows the major players in her life. Knows where she comes from, where she’s been. He even seems to know where she’s going and it’s this that irritates her most of all. He manages to stay so on top of every conceivable situation that it is almost ludicrous to compare him to any other normal human being.

But that’s exactly what Liz was forced to do. She’d gone to his latest safe house ready to be annoyed with him. She’d been in the middle of a massive, blow-up fight with Tom when the message came though. Just an address downtown and a single word: _hurry_. She told Tom that she had to leave and walked to her car with accusations about not being invested in their marriage filling her ears. She was already fuming by the time she started the engine and was in the middle of a furious, imaginary, one-sided argument with Red before she was halfway down the street. He so rarely let her talk without interruption and she wanted to martial all her arguments before she got there, just in case. She had it all figured out with her _I’m not your lackey to summon at will_ and _you never see fit to give me any information before dragging me halfway across town_ and _just who do you think you are anyway?_ She knew that there was very little chance that she would actually say any of these things to him, but it felt so good to have an argument with him that she was guaranteed to win.

By the time she’d arrived at the address he’d sent her, she had already managed to work out the worst of her anger. All that was left now was her usual undercurrent of quiet indignation that she almost always felt around him. When Dembe opened the door for her, she was ready to greet his smile with one of her own and she made no comment as he turned to lead her down a hallway. They stopped in front of a doorway through which she could hear the soft strains of a piano. She raised her eyebrows in question at Dembe but he merely smiled again and pushed the door open, gesturing for her to enter ahead of him.

“Raymond, Agent Keen is here.”

The music stopped abruptly as Red turned to look towards the door. Liz felt her mouth drop open in shock. He looked terrible. His clothes were rumpled, he was unshaven and it looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. But it was his eyes that disturbed her the most, there was a melancholy there that she just wasn’t used to seeing in him.

“Red, are you alright?” Liz said quietly as she heard Dembe exit the room behind her.

“Perfectly well, thank you.” He stood up slowly from the piano and picked up the drink that was resting on top of it. When he turned to look at her again, his face was as composed as ever. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Lizzy?”

“You asked me to come here, Red. You sent me this address and told me to hurry.” When his only response was a look of mild confusion, she grew suspicious. “Didn’t you?”

“I did not.” He shrugged once and took another slow sip of his drink, considering her. “No matter. You’re here now.” He smiled at her and gestures at a bottle of scotch on the other side of the room. “Drink?”

“No matter? It doesn’t matter that someone summoned me here?”

“Not especially, no.” She huffed in exasperation and his smile widened. “It was most likely Dembe.”

“Dembe?”

“Yes, Dembe. Dark man, quite tall, very strong-looking, good with a gun and quite handy in the kitchen—”

“Red—”

“He opened the door for you, Lizzy. Surely you haven’t forgotten him already.”

“Red—”

“I don’t know what they’re teaching at Quantico these days but perhaps they should add more units focussing on _observational_ skills.”

“Red!”

“The reason I am unconcerned is that _Dembe_ is unconcerned, which would seem to indicate that he asked you to come.”

“Oh.” She deflated a little, reluctantly conceding the logic in this. “But why?”

“I expect he’s worried about me.”

“And he called me?” Liz scoffed.

Red tilted his head slightly, considering her. “Yes, it was ridiculous of him, wasn’t it?”

“Red, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did. You’re just polite enough to pretend otherwise.” He strolled over to a sofa on the opposite side of the room and sits down heavily. “Honesty is rarely polite, Lizzy, but I do still appreciate it.”

“Why is Dembe worried about you, Red?”

“Who knows? I’m sure I haven’t given him any cause for concern.”

“Oh really? Should I ask him if he agrees with you?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

Liz sighed and looked around the room awkwardly. She didn’t really have any reason to stay but she wasn't quite ready to go home. She didn’t want to face a repeat of her argument with Tom and she couldn’t really explain to him where she’s been.

“You don’t have to stay, Lizzy.”

“I know.” She turned to face him again. “But I’m here now. Would you like some company, Red?”

“I always enjoy your company, Lizzy. You know that.”

She smiled tentatively at him and tried not to focus on the fact that he is the only person left in her life that always seemed to enjoy her company. Even if it was just a figure of speech, it managed to both comfort and unnerve her. _Just like everything else with him_ , she thought ruefully.

“Have a drink with me, Lizzy.” He leant forward to pour a small amount of scotch into a waiting glass and held it out to her. She accidentally brushed her fingers against his as she took the glass and was suddenly reminded of the last time she shared a drink with Red in one of his safe houses. She remembered the devastation she felt then, the first indications of Tom’s betrayal, and she blinked rapidly to stop the tears that rush, unbidden, to her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said softly, turning away from him again and strolling over to the piano. She needed some space to get a handle on her emotions, she’d never cried so much in her life and she resented this constant overwhelming sadness that caught her unaware at odd times. She felt weak and helpless and hates that this was what she had been reduced to.

“Lizzy?” he called softly to her. She could hear the concern in his voice and looked around desperately for a way to deflect his attention away from her.

“This is a nice place,” she blurted out loudly and then winced, grateful that she still had her back to him. “Do you stay here often?”

“Not very often. I like to come here when I feel like playing the piano.”

“None of your other safe houses have pianos?” she said, turning her attention to the instrument in question and running her fingers lightly over the keys.

“A few do, yes, but this one is my favourite.”

“I didn’t know you played piano.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Oh, I know that,” she said, very quietly. “Believe me, I know that.”

“Do you play, Lizzy?”

“No, I never had the patience for it. Sam tried to take me to lessons but it never stuck.” She ran her fingers more forcefully over the keys, deliberately making a slightly discordant sound. “I regret it now, I wish I knew how to play.”

She didn’t want to think about what else she regretted, particularly when it came to Sam. She took a deep breath and turned to face him again. She met his troubled gaze with a slightly tremulous smile.

“One of these days I’m going to stop crying so much in front of you,” she said, chuckling ruefully.

“Don’t ever feel like you can’t come to me, Lizzy. Whatever it is, I will be here for you.”

She felt a little overwhelmed by the sincerity on his face and in his voice, so she attempted to adopt a lighter tone when she said, “Aren’t I supposed to be here for _you_ this time?”

“Only because Dembe is such a meddlesome creature, Lizzy. You really should have no cause for concern on my part.”

“Why is Dembe worried about you, Red?”

It was Red’s turn to sigh and avert his eyes now. Liz took a sip of her drink and wandered over to the sofa, trying to decide on how far she wanted to push Red on this. There was certainly something bothering him, and it was clearly enough for Dembe to get her here under false pretenses. She sat down next to him and eyed him curiously. He continued to stare straight ahead, allowing her to study him but clearly unwilling to answer her question. She took a larger sip of her drink and winced slightly at the burn in her throat, remembering that she didn’t usually drink anything stronger than reasonably-priced wine. She wondered what Red’s definition of reasonably-priced is. Probably something more than her weekly salary.

“How did we get here, Red?”

She saw him glance at her in surprise.

“Well, I arrived yesterday with Dembe and I believe you drove yourself over this evening—”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” he asked with a sigh as he leant forward to top up his drink. Liz shook her head when he offered to fill hers as well. She’d have to go home eventually, and she probably shouldn’t have been drinking the one she has. Things tended to get a little messy when she drank hard liquor. Another reason she usually stuck to reasonably-priced wine.

“Is this how you pictured it working out? When you turned yourself in, I mean. Is this what you wanted?”

“Is _what_ what I wanted, Lizzy?”

She threw a glance around the room, gesturing a little vaguely, trying to explain what she was getting at. The problem was, she didn’t even know what she was trying to say. None of this makes any kind of conventional sense. She shouldn’t be here, drinking scotch with a criminal. She should be at home, making up with her husband and trying to salvage the last tiny shreds of her previously happy life that remain.

“Nothing,” she finally whispered. “Never mind.” She tipped her head back and finished her drink a little too quickly, placing the glass on the coffee table when she was done. “I’m sorry I interrupted your evening, Red.”

“Lizzy—”

“Will you play something for me?” she interrupted him quickly.

“What?” he asked, clearly surprised by the abrupt shift.

“Please?”

He shook his head in confusion but stood up anyway and headed back over to the piano.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to hear? Keeping in mind that my skills are rather limited.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Red. You? Admitting to lacking skill? Impossible!”

“I’m quite ready to admit to my limitations, Lizzy.” He glanced back at her and smiled. “I just don’t have quite as many limitations as the average person.”

Liz laughed out loud at that, enjoying the sudden lightening of her mood and the look of satisfied pleasure on Red’s face.

“That’s more like it, Lizzy. Now, what shall I play? My fingers eagerly await your instruction, just tell me where you want them.”

Liz blinked stupidly for a second, unsure if he meant for that to sound suggestive or if the alcohol was having a strange effect on her. Either way, she was feeling strangely flushed and she really hoped that he attributed it to her laughter and _not_ to her wandering mind.

“Whatever you want, Red. I’m all yours.”

_Ears, damn it_. She meant to say _ears_. She pretended not to notice his knowing smile or his raised eyebrow. She would _not_ say anything else to embarrass herself.

After a moment, he started to play. It isn’t anything she recognised but to her untrained ear, it sounded haunting. Melancholy. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the sofa. She just wanted to stay in this moment for a while. Pretend that her life is simple. Easy. That she can just enjoy an evening with her friend and work colleague, Raymond, where he offers comfort without consequences. Where she doesn’t have to measure every word, analyse every action. She wanted to live in this moment where she doesn’t have to worry about her husband or his ulterior motives because in her simpler life, he knows where she is and is happy for her to be there. He trusts her and she trusts him.

Red just kept playing, song after song. She felt like it could have been going on for hours. When he finally stopped, she felt strangely bereft. She opened her eyes and moved her head lazily so she could look at him. He was still at the piano, head bowed, both hands resting lightly on the keys. He looked so miserable sitting there alone that Liz was almost positive that he’d forgotten her presence. He would never normally let her see him like this and she wondered again what had happened today to make him look so desperately sad.

Liz was out of her chair and moving towards him before she even realised it. She made her steps deliberately heavy so he would know she was coming. She didn't want to spook him and could feel a new, oddly protective feeling come over her. She stopped directly behind him but he didn’t turn to look at her.

She murmured a quiet, “Don’t take this the wrong way, Red,” as the only warning before she wrapped her arms around him in a slightly awkward hug. She felt him suck in a surprised breath but offered no other reaction for a moment. Finally, she felt him relax very slightly against her. She rested her head gently against his and hugged him a little tighter.

“What would be the wrong way to take this, Lizzy?”

“I just wanted to give you fair warning,” she whispered. “I mean, last time I came at you from behind, I stabbed you.”

He huffed a laugh in response and lightly patted the hand resting against his chest.

“While I appreciate the warning, I don’t think I’m ever prepared for you, Elizabeth. Not really.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” she confessed.

“I know you don’t,” he patted her hand again, “give it time.”

She sensed that the moment has passed, so she squeezed him one more time and withdrew her arms. He closed the piano and stood up to face her.

“Why is Dembe worried about you, Red?”

“Why are _you_ worried about me, Lizzy?”

“Well, I—” she began but then cut herself off abruptly. She was worried about him because she _cared_ about him. She looked him in the eye and knew that he knew it, too, but she didn’t think that either of them were quite ready for her to admit it. She’d seen a side of him tonight that she didn’t even know existed and now she has to once again reconsider what she thought she knew about him in light of all that she’s come to know. Even the mere thought of it was exhausting. He was smiling at her again, this time in understanding. As if he could see the tumult of thoughts in her mind and knew how difficult this was for her.

“Thank you for coming tonight, Lizzy.”

She nodded stiffly in response, not quite trusting her voice yet.

“Will you be alright to get home or would you like me to ask Dembe to drive you? You’re quite welcome to stay here, of course. Plenty of room.”

She just shook her head and trusted that he knew what she meant. He raised his eyebrows at her and she cleared her throat awkwardly, knowing she needed to say something.

“I’ll be fine getting home, thanks,” she managed to get out. “And thank you for the drink and the music.” She gestured vaguely around the room, trying to encompass the entire evening with her hands as she clearly couldn’t articulate her thoughts.

“The pleasure was all mine, Lizzy.”

“No, really. I loved it.”

“Good. We should do it again sometime,” he said casually.

“I’d like that,” she said, suddenly feeling absurdly shy. “Do you think you’d be able to teach me something next time?”

“Elizabeth, my dear, given half the chance I would love to teach you a whole multitude of things.”

This time she knew for sure that he was entirely aware of how suggestive he sounded. Normally, she’d roll her eyes or make some kind of joke to shut the conversation down. This time, she was feeling just brave enough to take a step closer and tilt her face up at him.

“Oh, I know you could, Red,” she murmured. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

“All you have to do is ask, Lizzy.”

They were standing far too close to each other now, all pretense abandoned. She breathed in the scent of him and let her eyes wander slowly, deliberately across his face. They landed on his lips and she watched, fascinated, as his tongue darted out suddenly to wet them.

“Maybe I will.” She leaned in slowly and enjoyed the way his eyes widened in shock as she kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Red.”

She was out the door before he could say a word.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to anyone who takes the time to read/leave kudos/comment!


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